


At the Same Level

by lisa_tid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Miscommunication, Stupid Boys, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6544279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisa_tid/pseuds/lisa_tid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are friends, right? But now there is kissing, and Stiles isn't sure what happened. Of course, he goes with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Same Level

“ _Night of the Living Dead_ , really, Stiles?”

“Hey! Have you even seen it?” Stiles calls back, opening the bag of popcorn and pouring it into a bowl. Because no movie night is complete without popcorn. Except if you’re the Sheriff; ‘carrots and cucumbers sticks are not what I’d call awesome options, Stiles’. But he’s (thankfully) not around tonight, because then there would be no Derek. 

Derek says something that sounds suspiciously like ‘I don’t need to’, but Stiles can also hear the TV go on. He throws the empty bag away, pushing it deep into the thrash can so Dad can’t complain about missing out tomorrow. Heading into the living room, he places the bowl on the table and flops onto the sofa. 

“Zombies,” Derek says, he has started the blue-ray. “Thrice in a row.”

“Zombie-awesomeness thrice in a row,” Stiles counters, reaching into the bowl and stuffing his mouth full. 

“There is no such thing.” 

“Like all those documentaries and history stuff you pick is any better,” Stiles says, or at least means to say through all the popcorn.

That’s how the evening started. Now a much too loud whimper slips out of Stiles’ mouth, and a blush heats his neck. Derek doesn’t seem to care though; just carries on trailing kisses behind his ear. Their hips are slowly grinding together and Stiles is already way, way too close to creaming his pants. He tries to think of lacrosse training, and running, and Jackson but it isn’t working very well. 

To be honest, some of his mind is still stuck on _Oh my god Derek is kissing me_. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Weren’t they sitting a bit closer than usual? Weren’t Derek’s gaze lingering a little?

When Derek sits up, Stiles is thankful for about half a second because hey, a pause from the grinding. But then Derek pulls his t-shirt over his head in a smooth move that Stiles never in a million years could pull off. Bare-chested Derek isn’t really improving things orgasm wise. Or it is, depending how you see it. 

While Stiles brain is racing faster than a race car (he’d much prefer the mellow speed of his jeep), Derek pushes Stiles’ shirt up a bit over his belly. And that’s is probably a sign that Stiles should remove it but maybe not, because now hands are pulling jeans open. 

“Alright?” Derek asks.

“Yes! I mean yes. Definitely yes.” And Derek smiles. 

Stiles stops just staring at the broad chest leaning over him, and reaches up to touch too. Feel the smooth skin and hard muscle underneath. Thinks of all the unnatural strength coiled in that body. It’s been a long, long time since he’s been afraid of Derek. For a moment though, having the man leaning over him like this, Stiles feel small; vulnerable. 

“Dude,” Stiles says, distracting himself and gripping Derek’s hand that’s slowly slipping underneath Stiles’ boxers. Centimeters to a Derek-hand touching Stiles very manly manhood. And can a manhood be anything but manly? No, Stiles decides, it can’t. 

“You okay?” Derek asks, and he’s frowning now. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Stiles says, “I’m just like this close.” 

He holds up his free hand and parts his thumb and forefingers two millimeters. 

It’s the right thing to say, because the frown melts off Derek’s face and he’s smiling again. Completely ignoring Stiles’ attempt to keep hold of his hand, and pushes it inside Stiles’ boxers. 

He drags the waistband down, so it’s underneath Stiles’ balls. And Stiles can’t look away, props himself up on one elbow. The sight of Derek’s finger curling around him is almost as good as the feeling. It seems to be done with such practiced ease. Does that ease come from practicing on himself or lots of other guys? They have never really talked about that stuff. Derek knows Stiles whole body is virgin territory. Had no idea that Derek was interested in stepping (tramping? Heading? Entering?) onto said territory. He does knows Derek has slept with at least two women. Isn’t really sure how much more he wants to know. 

Stiles doesn’t manage to bite back a moan, because Derek finds a very good rhythm and Stiles can’t keep his hips from moving a little; even trapped as they are with Derek sitting on his thighs. The pleasure is very swiftly curling in his belly, and but a moment later Stiles is coming. 

Finally Stiles’ mind blanks for a moment and he just lays there. Then he remembers the very important thing called reciprocating and sits up abruptly, almost smacking his face into Derek’s. 

“Easy,” Derek says, avoiding a head-butt by grabbing onto Stiles’ shoulders. His hands slide down, down and underneath Stiles’ shirt; pushing it up again. But Stiles has decided now, and no not happening.

“Lie down,” Stiles says, pushing at Derek and it’s seriously like pushing at a brick wall. After just a moment he gives in though, slides down onto his back. Stiles thinks of the two of them sitting on his bed, watching Netflix on the laptop (clothed of course). And Stiles really thinks they are friends. Derek has told him stuff, personal stuff. And they’ve talked about the pack and how much they are and sure, it all started with Derek just wanting him to research or that but Stiles thought they had moved far beyond that. 

So if Derek needs to let out some steam, that’s cool right? It’s not like Stiles gets nothing out of this. 

As he unbuttons Derek’s pants, and pushes them down he resolutely doesn’t think about any of that and hopes they can be normal in the morning. Because having casual sex with Derek when he’s totally in love with him? It should be cool, an opportunity, but it isn’t. 

Then he glances up and sees Derek’s eyes closing as Stiles starts to stroke him – what is he thinking about? Derek reaches down to adjust Stiles grip, loosens it, and Stiles blushes. So they like different things, no big deal. 

“That’s it,” Derek says and his voice is a little deeper than usual, and for a second he opens his eyes – looks at Stiles – before they slide shut again.

Something warm curls in Stiles chest when Derek comes, and he reaches out and strokes down Derek’s forearm. Grins. Because, he did that.  
Derek opens his eyes and now he looks soft, and a little sleepy and Stiles leans down to kiss him. Once, twice, before he remembers that he has no idea what the protocol is now. 

“So, that was great,” Stiles says. “Like really great,” and Stiles very much needs a moment alone so he scrambles to his feet. “Yeah. So. Just gonna clean up a bit.” 

“Stiles…?” Derek says. 

But Stiles is already closing the bathroom door behind him and leans against it. After a moment he walks over to the sink, meeting his own eyes in the mirror and suddenly they are burning. Angrily, he scrubs at them and then washes his face. After grabbing a washcloth and cleaning up, though he really needs to change his jeans, he draws in a deep breath. 

No hiding in the bathroom, he says to himself. He’s been here just long enough for a wash up. When he returns to the living room Derek has put his clothes in order again and is sitting on the sofa, the only tell his not so perfect hair. When he looks up at Stiles, his expression is closed off. 

Stiles half expected him to have flown out the window. 

“What the hell, Stiles?! 

“What?!” 

When Derek opens his mouth to respond, Stiles shakes his head. If he doesn’t get this out now, he might lose his courage. 

“I’m really into you,” he blurts out. “I really thought we were friends; and you suddenly with the kissing – you caught me off guard. It’ just – it’s not okay.” 

“You think I’m not into you?” Derek asks. 

“Well, no.” A beat. “Are you?” 

Derek actually rolls his eyes, “Why would I kiss you if I wasn’t?”

Stiles opens his mouth and closes it again. Derek rises from the sofa and steps closer, so close he’s up in Stiles’ space. Even though they are the same height Derek feels impossible large, and Stiles heart speeds up. The hands that slides around his waist are big too, big and warm.

“I’m really into you,” Derek says and that little smile is back.

Helplessly, Stiles grins back and leans in to kiss him. 

“Come on,” Derek says and pulls Stiles towards the sofa. 

Actually, Stiles is pretty sure he can’t get it up again. He had the house for himself when he came back from school, and well… Even his teenage libido can only manage two orgasms in an hour. He says as much.

“I can’t either,” Derek says, “I thought…” 

“We could finish watching the movie upstairs,” Stiles says and then looks down at himself. “But I should really change my jeans first.”

“Yeah,” Derek looks at his own jeans and grimaces. 

So Stiles fetches his laptop, thinks for a moment and then forces himself not to hesitate as he shucks his jeans and pulls on sweats. His biggest pair he throws in Derek’s face, who changes too. 

Afterwards, Stiles can’t remember what they watched. Only the warmth of Derek pressed against his side and somehow Stiles manages to fall asleep, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night that warmth is along his back. His first thought is of his dad, and he really hopes Derek hid under the bed when he came home to check on him. But he must’ve, because even Stiles can’t sleep through gun shooting. And Stiles smiles and pets the arm that’s curled around him. 

 

**The End**


End file.
